


Something To Work With

by MilesChronicless



Category: Professor Layton, Professor Layton and the Lost Future
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Author is tired, Child Abuse, Child! Luke, Clive does not, Clive is a little shit, Drug Abuse, Eating Disorders, F/M, Gang Violence, Gay, Gen, Hershel gets happy, I'm really sorry, Luke gets happy, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Rape, Poor Clive, Swearing, Tags to be added, Teen! Clive, Underage Prostitution, Violence, Well - Freeform, What else is new, author has forgotten how to tag, poor luke, semi-happy, sorry characters - Freeform, unfinished as of yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 07:32:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11270934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilesChronicless/pseuds/MilesChronicless
Summary: In which Luke and Hershel try to fix each other, and Clive heads further along the path of self destruction.Or, that one where Luke and Clive are orphans, and a certain Hershel Layton just so happens to be in the perfect position to adopt both of them.





	Something To Work With

"Clive!"

Clive rolled over in bed. Maybe he could grab an extra five minutes' sleep. He'd been studying late into the night, after all... His mother wouldn't mind, would she?

"Clive!"

He mumbled something incomprehensible to himself, pulling at the blankets around him. Why wouldn't she leave him alone? He was having a nice dream, something about an explosion, multicoloured and bright. It reminded him of fireworks. He wondered if Luke would be old enough this year to come to the field with him and father to light the fireworks.

_Luke... Of course._

"Clive, you have to wake up!"

Clive awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright, panting. His little brother, Luke, was crouched beside him, looking worried. The pleasant dream of fireworks turned sour, filling his mind with screams and heavy black smoke. His eyes stung faintly.

"Luke," he said, or tried to. His mouth was rather dry. He rubbed his eyes, sniffing, and turned properly to him, absently rubbing his lower left leg. "Luke. How long was I asleep?"

"A few hours," Luke replied, biting his lip. The eight year old looked alarmed still, like he hadn't been expecting his brother to wake, and Clive instantly felt guilty for that, guiding the younger to sit beside him, which he did happily. "I'm sorry. I know you told me not to disturb you, but you were... uhm, I mean..."

"I know," Clive sighed, dragging a hand along his face. Indeed, it was damp with tears and sweat, and he wiped it off distastefullt, coughing lightly. "Thank you, Luke. You're a good boy. Do you want to sleep now?"

Luke nodded eagerly, his bright eyes sleepy and clouded with the haziness of exhaustion Clive had become used to seeing while looking into water or his own reflection. He instantly felt awful for keeping his brother up for so long. "Yeah, I think that would be good," the younger smiled, and immediately curled up to his side. Clive held him close, trying not to look too protective or anything of the sort. Luke was getting older, after all. It was a miracle he even wanted to stay so close to him. Then again, he told himself, just a little bitterly, it might have been to do with that living on the streets was no place for a young child with his brother, let alone a child by himself. He wrapped his arms around Luke, closing his eyes.

"Clive?"

Luke's hesitant voice wavered ever so slightly, and caused Clive to open his eyes tiredly again.

"Yes, Luke?"

"What did you dream about?" His younger brother asked softly, and rushed on to continue when he felt Clive stiffen against him. "Just 'coz you sounded upset, real upset, and I couldn't wake you at first, and you called... you called me–"

  
"I know what I called you, Luke," Clive interrupted him sharply, clearing his throat. "It doesn't matter what I was dreaming about. Just try to get some sleep. We have to leave first thing tomorrow morning, as soon as the sun rises, so don't dwell on anything as unimportant as that. Just sleep, alright?"

"Okay," Luke's voice was quietly disappointed, causing Clive to only feel a little more guilty. But he pushed it down, squeezing Luke's hand silently and burrowing down in his not-bed in his not-house in his not-street, and shut his eyes tightly, trying to block it all out. But inwardly, he was awfully worried. How was he going to get enough money to get Luke back at school? It had already been a year and a half, and he knew it was too late for him, but for Luke, it was a different matter. He had to get him back to school - the kid wanted be a lawyer, after all. How was he going to do that without a home, or indeed any money to do so? He swallowed thickly, heart hammering, as he felt Luke shift next to him. Luke deserved so much better. How could he help him?

Maybe he could get a job. Just a small one, enough to power them through the next few weeks. He could only steal so many times before he was caught, and even stealing from the local drunks was dangerous - most of them could throw a nasty punch. Clive still had a large bruise over his jaw thanks to one gentleman in a clearly foul mood that had drunk too much, punching him in the jaw roughly when Clive had been caught with his hand in his pocket. Luke had fussed over him for days after that, still did.

"Does your leg still hurt?"

Clive jumped skittishly at the sound of Luke's voice, and looked down to him. The younger's eyes were closed, but his face was angled upwards, bathed in the moonlight. A surge of weariness and fondness surged over him at that, and he merely pressed a light kiss to Luke's forehead, smoothing his fluffy brown hair down unnecessarily.

"I thought you were sleeping."

"I can't sleep. I miss mum and dad," Luke instantly replied plaintively.

And just like that, it was like a red hot bolt of pain had shot through Clive's chest. He couldn't speak, voice locked in a silent scream of agony deep in his mind. Any emotion shut off from his face, and he shut his eyes, a bitter kind of poison flooding through him, and he disentangled himself from Luke, heart in his mouth.

"Clive?" Luke asked, voice hitching. "Where are you going? Are you okay? I-I didn't mean to bring up mum and dad, I just miss—"

"Missing them won't bring them back," Clive interrupted bluntly, crossing to where they kept the money, taking it out and hugging it close to his chest. "Missing them just makes them more dead." He was silent for a moment, shake clouding his heart, before he scoffed. He wouldn't think of them. God, he needed a drink or something. "Go to _sleep_ , Luke."

"But–" Luke began, voice cracking. He was close to tears, Clive could tell, and he jut felt like even more of a bad person.

"That wasn't me asking you," he sneered, causing Luke to sniff tearfully, and Clive could hear him shuffling to turn over, turn away from the creature with his brother's name. He wanted to be sick.

"Night, Clive," Luke mumbled, voice shaking, and for a long moment, Clive wanted to hug him, go over and murmur apologies to him. But he couldn't move, wouldn't move, and so simply scoffed, taking a small sip of the wine he'd taken earlier from the woman's bag on the streets.

Soon enough, his brother's breathing evened out, and he knew Luke was asleep. He still didn't dare to look back, unable to check if the younger had tears on his face on on his pillow. He simply stared down at their dwindling money supply, the half-empty bottle of wine, and the single photo they still had of their parents, attempting to burn their faces into his mind.

**_Useless.... Useless.... Useless...._ **

"Shut up," he hissed, and rubbed an angry hand against his head, hunching over with a grimace. He was just tired, he reasoned, curling around both the bottle and the money, not wanting to risk anybody taking either. The photo, however, he continued to stare at, eyes trained on it as if he needed it more than air, which at this point it certainly felt like it. His eyes were focused on the happy, laughing faces of his family, the bright blue eyes of his mother, the boyish grin of his father, the childish light in both his and Luke's faces. His heart ached unpleasantly, and for the sixteenth night in a row, found himself falling asleep with it laying beside him, falling into a restless and uneasy sleep on the pavements of London.

 

  
When he awoke the next morning, all three items were gone, and for the first time since his parents had died, Clive sobbed. 

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, so chapter one!! I'll probably come back to sort this out later, I'm super tired right now, haha. This is my first story I've actually been properly interested in for a while, so hopefully the next chapter will be up quick. I'm going on holiday soon, so I'll have a lot of time to work on this, which rocks! I'm really excited for this, however, this is also a vent fic, with some sensitive issues, and so if you are sensitive to anything listed in the tags, I wouldn't read. 
> 
>  
> 
> AGES!!  
> Clive - 15  
> Luke - 8
> 
>  
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this, because I know I sure did, haha. I'll update every Friday night, UK time, this is just because it's the first chapter, lmao. I've been meaning to write something like this for a while, but just never got round to it. Its also very short, but the next chapters will be much longer, I promise! :) 
> 
> So in that case, welcome, and thanks for reading!! Any criticism is welcomed deeply, and I will take everything on board. Thank you once again!!
> 
> ~MilesChronicless


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